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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447165">'a due'; together</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967'>LovelyRita1967</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Betaed, Boys Kissing, Classical Music, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Romance, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Teacher Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Teacher Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:33:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em><b>a due</b><br/>/a ˈdu:ay/<br/>Adverb (Music): (Ital.) “In two parts”, intended as a duet; for two voices or instruments; two instruments play in unison after a solo passage for one of the instruments; together</em>
</p><p>Jaskier is a music teacher at Kaedwen Academy, and he can hardly believe how hot the new chem teacher is. Jaskier slowly gets to know Geralt, attempting to not be a <i>complete</i> idiot every step of the way. Can they get it together?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Modern Witcher AU Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. a prima vista</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I once again must express my undying love and affection for the wonderful humans in my Witcher group chat. I peppered them with questions for this fic and they came through each and every time. Love you all. </p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaire_Seton/pseuds/Blaire_Seton">Blaire_Seton</a> continues to be the best Beta ever in the world. Every day I fall in love with her again. I don’t deserve you, Blaire.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>
    <b>a prima vista</b>
    <br/>
    <span>/a ˌpri.ma: ˌvis.ta/</span>
    <br/>
    <span>Adverb (Music): “at first sight”, without practice, by sight-reading</span>
    <br/>
  </em>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Welcome to second semester!” Jaskier announced, arms wide, smiling at his senior orchestra. “This is it! The conclusion to your high school careers, the zenith, if you will, of your musical achievements and pursuit of orchestral excellence!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few students whooped, the room a sea of grinning faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked out at them and felt his heart swelling with affection for his students. He moved through the orchestra handing out the sheet music as he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And as such, we begin today with a composition by yours truly, designed to delight and inspire the youth of today - that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span></em><span>” he stage whispered at them in an aside. “A meditation on what it means to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>young </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have the whole world before you, yet understanding that this moment is fleeting and that you must </span>
  <em>
    <span>seize it!"</span></em><span></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the faces were starting to look confused. Perhaps he was losing them. He picked up his baton. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough talking, let us </span>
  <em>
    <span>play</span></em><span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  **</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A student came to last period with a note from the office that Jaskier was to report to Principal Stregobor at the end of day. He groaned inwardly, wondering what he had done wrong this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stregobor was an insufferable snob, uptight and smug. He ran Kaedwen Academy like his own exclusive country club. Jaskier understood that if he wasn't such an accomplished and respected musician in his own right, Stregobor would have tossed him out long ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, that didn’t mean he was above dressing Jaskier down every now and then, over infractions minor or even imaginary, just to keep him in his place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The secretary waved him through. Jaskier smoothed his slightly rumpled red dress shirt, then popped his head into Stregobor’s stuffy, and quite frankly, pretentious wood-panelled office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Pankratz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Principal Stregobor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regarded Jaskier with a raised eyebrow, haughty and distant, and Jaskier refused to appear anything other than completely at ease. He allowed himself a moment to silently mock Stregobor’s ridiculous and overly-dramatic pointy beard instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a seat, please,” he said, waving a hand at the chairs in front of his desk. Jaskier perched gingerly on the edge of one of them, not planning to stay long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe we have had this discussion before, Mr. Pankratz. Need I remind you that Kaedwen Academy has the highest of standards, and I must insist, again, that you do not permit the students to call you by your first name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, Principal Stregobor. You see, it’s just that an important educational philosophy of mine-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span></span>
  <em>
    <span>"Excellent.</span>
  </em>
  <span>
 I’m glad we understand each other. That will be all.” Stregobor put his reading glasses back on, picked up a paper off his desk, and proceeded to pretend that Jaskier no longer existed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hesitated for a moment, a whole barrage of words piling up on his tongue. But he, with great restraint and maturity, swallowed them all back down, nodded once, and left the office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have been showing some signs of distress though, because suddenly Triss appeared in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jask? You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey. Yeah, I’m fine, just that fucking stuck-up asshole…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss winced sympathetically.  “Don’t let him get to you. All that man cares about is impressing the Board and adding more trophies to his case. Fuck him.” She squeezed Jaskier’s arm reassuringly, then fell into step beside him and he headed back to his classroom. “How did semester start-up go for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Jaskier did his best to shake Stregobor out of his head. “Fine. Good, actually. Yeah. Have some real keeners in my composition class. History of Music is pretty light, worried it might get folded. Otherwise all the ensembles are carried over from last semester. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss chatted happily about the group she had for senior biology this semester, and they giggled about the poor freshman who had mispronounced “organism” when reading to the class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey,” she added, turned back from the door as she was about to leave. “Did you see the new Chem teacher today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier frowned. “The one that decided to leave Kaer Morhen Industries to come teach? No, I didn’t. What’s his name… Gerald?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt. Geralt Rivia. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jask. Just wait till you see him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shrugged, feeling rather unimpressed. I mean, how hot could a chemistry teacher really be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turns out, pretty fucking hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning Jaskier was fighting with the photocopier, cursing and ripping open drawers and yanking jammed paper out of endless hidden compartments. He had about three minutes to get to class and was still in need of a class set of music theory worksheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whispered furiously at the copier, “There </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> no paper in A4, you motherf-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help?” a deep voice rumbled from behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier whirled around and felt the air rush out his lungs, or out of the entire room, maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man standing in front of him was only a little bit taller than him, but much broader. His shoulders were sinfully sculpted, his pecs visible underneath the fitted dress shirt and tie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Built like a Greek god, yes, but his </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was silvery white and long and half tied up at the back of his head. And those </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They were a warm, impossibly light brown that Jaskier was sure would qualify as golden. His jaw was cut from stone and his eyes gazed out from a heavily furrowed brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was acutely aware that he had crossed the line into staring, but his mind was entirely bereft of words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man cleared his throat. “If you’ll just let me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man took a step towards him and Jaskier was suddenly awash with the heat from his body and the smell of his soap or shampoo or whatever fucking sex pheromones the man was currently secreting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He actually felt dizzy, and took an uncertain step to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man bent over the open copier front and, in a couple swift and confident movements, had the door shut and the machine humming again. It began to spit the rest of Jaskier’s worksheets into the tray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s mouth had gone completely dry but he managed to force out, “Um, thanks. Are you the copier repair guy, or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of the man’s mouth gave a tiny twitch. He held out his hand, “Geralt Rivia.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier took his hand and met those golden eyes, feeling a flush creep into his cheeks at the contact. His grip was firm, just bordering on too strong, and Jaskier suddenly found himself imagining how it might feel to have those hands grip other parts of his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the name hit him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The new chemistry teacher?” he asked, an octave higher than normal. Gods, Triss had sold him way too fucking short. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he grunted with a small nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier realized they were still shaking hands while Geralt looked at him expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped Geralt’s hand like it was too hot, and stammered out, “Jaskier. Pankratz. Music.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first bell rang, and Jaskier scooped the rest of his papers off the tray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lovely to meet you,” he murmured, aware that his cheeks were still hot, his voice squeaky, and he was late for fucking class again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned and nearly bolted down the hall, feeling like those eyes were still on him, but too embarrassed to turn around and check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At lunch that day, Jaskier dropped into his usual seat next to Triss in the staff room, internally groaning when he saw who Triss was sitting with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yennefer,” he greeted the other woman icily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier,” she replied, lip curled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys,” Triss rolled her eyes at them. “Behave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gave Triss his best placating smile, but he could not resist shooting Yennefer one more tiny glare. She was glaring back. Gods, he despised her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, if he was being completely honest, it wasn’t so much that he despised her, it was that he was terrified of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer Vengerberg, raven-haired beauty, head of the Math &amp; Science department, supremely gifted mathematics and physics teacher. Ball buster. Jaskier wasn’t sure Stregobor knew how much Yennefer was actually in charge around here. She was older than she looked, and just about everyone in the building found her scary as hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone except Triss, that is. They were friends somehow, and while Jaskier counted this as the one lone point in Yennefer’s “pro” column, he still couldn’t bring himself to actually like her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier ate his lunch in a bit of a sulk as he listened to the two of them chat about the semester start up, when his attention was drawn by the man with glowing silver hair entering the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was attractive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re staring, Jaskier,” Yennefer levelled her gaze at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tossed his head. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Geralt retrieve his lunch from the fridge and head towards the empty table in the back corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” he called without really planning to do so. “Come sit here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s face was unreadable, but he pulled up a chair and nodded at Triss and Yennefer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met yesterday... Miss Marigold, was it?” he said to Triss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, call me Triss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Miss Vengerberg?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ms.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vengerberg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ms..</span>
  </em>
  <span>My apologies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” she regarded him carefully, then smiled. “How is your second day going, Mr. Rivia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They chatted politely about Geralt’s classes, and Jaskier did his best to introduce Geralt to other staff members as they went by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Eskel, he teaches P.E.,” he said, indicating the big, burly bear of a man. “Lambert is Tech Ed, shop and auto and stuff, he’s a bit of a dick- </span>
  <em>
    <span>oof</span></em><span>,” he said when Lambert cuffed him on the back of the head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tissaia is English.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prim and proper woman with the too-tight bun pursed her lips and deigned to nod at Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regis is History…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man with up swept grey hair around a receding hairline gazed evenly at Geralt.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy,” he said, shaking Geralt’s hand. “Please do stop by my room for tea one day. I would love to hear more about your decision to leave the corporate world and join us down here in the trenches.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s eyebrows rose slightly as he nodded back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Geralt focus intently on each person as they were introduced and he could almost hear his brain whirring as it filed away every bit of information thrown at him. He didn’t smile but he was unfailingly polite and attentive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t stay long, perhaps overwhelmed by all the new names and faces, and mumbled his thanks and slipped out as the others were still eating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yenn packed up the remains of her lunch and stood up. But before she turned to go, she stopped and regarded Jaskier evenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Pankratz. I thought you might like to know, Geralt Rivia is a renowned chemical engineer. He’s brilliant. He’s really not your type.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks flared a little but he did his best to keep his gaze impassive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Yenn. Hope the rest of your day is as pleasant as you are,” he smiled at her sweetly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smirked back at him. “You’re not pretty enough to be vapid, darling. You really must try to be more interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned her eyes to Triss. “I’ll see you later,” she said in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>nicer tone of voice, and swept out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss patted his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  * </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to Jaskier’s absolute dismay, Geralt was sitting with Yennefer at lunch the next day. He watched her flipping her hair and looking at him with heavy eyes. He was pretty sure she was wearing a new dress, too. And, he grudgingly admitted, it was smoking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched urgently, eyes flicking back and forth between the two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch.</span>
  </em>
  <span></span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the day he took a detour past Geralt’s classroom on his way to the photocopier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he peeked in he saw Geralt hunched over his lab counter, carefully pouring a liquid from one glass to another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clear liquid turned white and cloudy, and Geralt gave a small grunt of satisfaction and put both glasses down to make a note in a notebook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you working on?” Jaskier asked from the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn’t quite jump, but he looked surprised at the disturbance. He looked at Jaskier blankly for a second, then went back to his notebook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a demonstration for tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, if that wasn’t an invitation to come in, Jaskier didn’t know what was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get that water to turn cloudy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you pay attention in high school chemistry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. It’s not water. One is a solution of magnesium sulfate and the other is a solution of sodium carbonate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the white stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked like he was in pain. “It’s a precipitate called magnesium carbonate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a precipitate?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stared at him a moment. “I’m still getting ready for my lesson tomorrow, so if you don’t mind…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes of course. Sorry. I’ll be on my way. I’ll just leave you to your…” he waved at the lab bench, “... flasks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re beakers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuuuuuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier thought to himself as he hurried from the room, cursing himself for flirting with his lab partner his entire sophomore year and not listening to a word his teacher said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the next few days, Jaskier had trouble finding Geralt without Yennefer nearby. They ate lunch together, and Jaskier even saw her leaving Geralt’s room the next time he casually wandered by after school.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking figures.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think Geralt and Yenn are dating,” Jaskier sighed dramatically at Triss, tossing the rest of his second cosmopolitan back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were at the Bruxa, their favourite bar, for their usual Tuesday night drinks. Cosmos were on special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss gave him a look. “They are not dating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve been eating lunch together every day, and they keep… looking at each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking!” Triss gasped. “Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Heavens, what will the town elders think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stuck his tongue out at her. Wait, was that his third cosmo? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just think… I mean, look at them. Look how well they go together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss had to nod at that. “That’s true. They’re both gorgeous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I swear, I wouldn’t put it past Yennefer Vengerberg to hit on him just to mess with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yenn would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>do that,” Triss said emphatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t she?” Jaskier eyed the next round of drinks the server dropped at the table. This was the third. Or fourth? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she would not,” Triss said firmly. “Yenn is actually really sweet. I’m sure she's just helping him get settled into the department. It’s her job, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier looked at her hard. “What did you just say to me? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweet?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Was it ‘sweet’ at the last staff meeting when she asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>in front of everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> if I was getting enough sleep? And said that it was ‘too bad the chamber choir was forced to perform before they were ready’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those are not insults!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier just looked at her. “Then she called me an artless hack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, okay. That might have been an insult.” She laughed and pushed the next cosmo towards him. “Drink up, hack!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier had a spare block before lunch so he got to the staff room early, hoping to find some coffee left still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yessss,” he crooned when he saw a fresh pot brewing, already almost full. He was feeling the effects of the four (five?) cosmos last night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was stirring two creams and two sugars into his coffee when he heard a polite cough behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing sculpted forearms covered in a dusting of dark grey hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry.” Jaskier slid out of the way and tried to casually admire said forearms as they went about reaching for a mug and pouring a cup of coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grabbed his lunch out of the fridge and carried his mug over to his usual table without saying anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier continued to stir his coffee slowly, and found himself unable to resist. “So… Yennefer, hey?” he said loudly across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Geralt a moment to hear him. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Yennefer… you’re dating?” Jaskier asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are not dating,” Geralt grumbled at him, and turned back to unpack his lunch. “I’m not dating anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier couldn’t help himself. He wandered over to stand above Geralt. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt just stared at him. Jaskier registered his look of mild annoyance as he pulled a chair out and plunked himself down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean to pry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier floundered for a moment, and felt immense relief when Lambert and Eskel barrelled into the room arguing loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, Eskel,” Lambert said, peering into the fridge to grab his lunch. “If I was coaching, I wouldn’t have put him in yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel rolled his eyes and shoved him out of the way of the fridge. “Yeah, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had him up against their best hitter in the front row.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then he went on to rip six jump serves and we won the game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After he got beat when the other guy went line twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fu- Screw you, Lambert,” Eskel sighed, exasperated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert grinned at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched them, amused, but he noticed that Geralt kept his eyes on his lunch and ate without another word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also couldn’t help but notice that Geralt did not eat lunch in the staff room the next day. Or the rest of the week, in fact.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. affannato</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i><b>affannato</b><br/>/af·fan·nà·to/<br/>Adverb (Music): Sad, in distress. Anguished.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next Monday Jaskier was feeling a little guilty for driving Geralt out of the lunch room, and he stopped by his classroom on his way to the staff room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had on safety goggles and a lab coat and was standing at his fume hood. He was mixing a white powder into a clear liquid in a large jar. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, is </span>
  </em>
  <span>this</span>
  <em>
    <span> one a flask?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier waited until his hands were empty and he rapped gently on the door fame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this for class? May I watch?” he asked hopefully when Geralt looked over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Geralt nodded. “Just don't come too close.” He added more clear liquid from a squirt bottle, still stirring carefully. Two other large flasks full of clear liquid sat to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched in silence another moment. His hands were so careful, each movement confident and sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve probably done something like this a million times, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why practice it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gave him a strange look. “Did a music teacher just ask me why I practice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier groaned inwardly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you could stop asking the beautiful man ridiculous questions...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, practicing…. Of course. Gods, sorry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Geralt cut off his apology, not unkindly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a large empty beaker and carefully poured some of the solutions from two of the flasks into it. He put it on a white hot plate and dropped what looked like a little white capsule into it. A memory stirred when Geralt flicked a switch and the capsule began to spin at the bottom of the beaker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A stirring plate, right?” he burst out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked at him with a small quirk of his lips. “That’s right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the stirring rod producing a large vortex, he carefully poured in liquid from the third flask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clear liquid quickly turned a dark amber colour, and then, in an instant, was a deep, dark blue - almost black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” Jaskier asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Briggs-Rauscher reaction, also known as the ‘oscillating clock’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he spoke the blue started to fade until the solution was colourless again, then Jaskier watched as it started to darken back into amber. He gasped when again, he blinked and it was deep blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does it do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked at him. “You don’t really want to know, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I absolutely do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded. “Okay, then.” He took his safety googles off and moved over to the whiteboard and began to draw a series of chemical equations. He explained them all, and there was quite a lot about iodine and iodide ions. Jaskier did his best to follow, although by the end he was mostly just watching Geralt with wide blue eyes and nodding where he thought appropriate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually Geralt put his marker down. “Did you get all that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I mean… mostly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled at him, and Jaskier’s breath caught. It was the first real smile he had seen from Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that week Jaskier was making notes on a score as his Senior jazz band trickled in for third period. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is that dude’s problem?” Kai, one of his trumpet players, asked as he came in with a handful of friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right? He’s so uptight!” the second trombone, Vanessa, chimed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody cares about chemistry!” the drummer, Kevin, added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier listened thoughtfully. “Are you talking about Mr. Rivia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them stopped in front of him, looking slightly guilty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean… he’s just so intense. It feels like he might kill you for getting an answer wrong,” Kevin offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Jaskier nodded. “And has he, so far? Killed anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanessa smiled. “No! But, like, he’s so mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he know a lot about chemistry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only everything!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you lucky, then, to have a chemistry teacher who knows everything about chemistry and wants you to do well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them rolled their eyes, and Kevin piped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just not as cool as you, Jaskier - Mr. Pankratz! Shit, sorry - shoot! I mean, shoot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier tried not to laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Undoubtedly.” His mouth twitched as he waved them away. Gods, these kids cracked him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” came a deep voice from the door, and Jaskier jumped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was Geralt in the music room? Had he just heard the conversation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to bother you, I know class is about to start, but it’s my spare period…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s fine. How can I help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand that’s the supply room across the hall? I’ve forgotten my key…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you bet.” Jaskier darted into the hall and unlocked the supply room, holding the door open for Geralt before it could swing shut again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Geralt rumbled, as he squeezed past him. His shoulder brushed against Jaskier’s, and Geralt’s amazing smell hit him again. He took another deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gave him a look and he was suddenly terrified that Geralt knew he had just smelled him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will lock automatically…” Jaskier cleared his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was already searching the shelves when the bell rang to start class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, see you later,” Jaskier began to edge out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt glanced back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said meaningfully, and Jaskier felt the full force of his gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was back in the staff room for lunch that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was a teacher version of hell, it was Parent/Teacher conferences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Thursday evening the gym was set up with a ring of student desks and chairs around the outside. Teachers sat facing the middle of the gym, alphabetically by last name, and two chairs sat facing them, waiting to be filled by concerned parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, what’s not to like about sitting in a freezing, smelly gym for three hours late into the evening while parents line up to either listen to you gush about their precious angel, or tear you a new one,” Jaskier muttered to Triss as they slipped into the gym with a minute to spare before they began. He had had a few bad experiences when he was a brand new teacher and he got a knot of anxiety in his stomach every time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheer up, Jask!” Triss chirped at him. “No one really cares about music anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped at the insult but saw that she was already laughing at him. He smoothed his ruffled feathers, turned around and marched to his assigned desk, dignity intact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three hours passed by rather painfully, but Triss did have a fair point. Not many parents got too worked up about music. In fact, now that he was well known at the school, popular with the kids, and had mostly the same students as last semester, he occasionally ended up with no one waiting to talk to him. He marked some music theory assignments while he waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he grew tired of that, he cast his gaze around the gym, snickering at the long lines the math teachers had. And then he saw the line in front of Mr. Rivia and his jaw dropped. The man had a line up at least double what anyone else had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he was brand new at the school, teaching an intense academic subject, and, from what he had heard, he was pretty tough. Still, a line double the math teachers? Jaskier frowned as he scanned the line up, noticing that it had a different energy somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he realized what it was. The line up was mostly moms, and they were giggling and whispering and smoothing their hair and casting more than a few blushing glances at Mr. Rivia. Yes, sure, some parents looked pissed off and clearly had a bone to pick, but the vast majority were just there to ogle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier found it rather amusing for a moment but then he looked at the man in question. He looked much too large to be sitting at a student desk. His expression was carefully neutral, but Jaskier could see the tension in his jaw, and the creases in his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was miserable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the three hours were up at 8:00, Geralt still had at least a dozen parents waiting to talk to him. Jaskier waved to Triss as she slipped out in a hurry to make it to her favourite spin class, and he slowly gathered up his papers, watching Geralt out of the corner of his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was shuffling through papers and turned one to face the frowning parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched as Geralt carefully explained something, pointing to various places on the paper, while the parents pursed their lips and said something back to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it was 8:05 and the gym was otherwise almost empty, Jaskier made a decision. He stood up and walked confidently up to Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Makenna says that you don’t explain things very well,” the woman was saying to him, while the man nodded vehemently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I imagine Makenna would have a hard time hearing what I’m saying when she spends so much time talking to her friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn. Good for you!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier cheered internally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry to interrupt!” he announced loudly, while the parents spluttered indignantly. He made sure the whole line up could hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Principal Stregobor has just requested Mr. Rivia’s presence in the office. I’m afraid you’ll have to make an appointment for another time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiled and nodded and began to herd the parents towards the doors with a few dramatic arm gestures. “Yes, he really is needed most urgently. If you’ll just send Mr. Rivia an email…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Rivia,” Jaskier indicated Geralt should follow him, and he marched with Geralt out of the gym doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked silently until they were well clear of the gym. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what Principal Stregobor wants?” Geralt asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, probably just to get laid,” Jaskier said airily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stopped and stared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But not by you! Shit, I mean, no, not that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to get laid by you… I mean, I don’t even know if you’re gay or not...”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Not helping. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never… I mean, I am, but I wouldn’t…” Geralt sputtered, clearly rattled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods, I’m sorry, that was just a terrible joke. Stregobor doesn’t actually want anything from you now. I just made that up as an excuse to get you out of there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched the confusion clear from Geralt’s face, his expression shifting to surprised and then… grateful maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Geralt said softly, looking awkwardly at his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier swallowed and nodded. “It was no trouble. They were just checking out the fresh meat. As it were. If they’re actually concerned about their kid’s progress, they can email you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to keep walking and Geralt followed, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Makenna never shuts up. You’d think they’d know that by now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt made a noise that sounded like a short laugh, and Jaskier committed it to memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hesitated a brief moment. “And I’m gay, too. He added, unnecessarily.” He laughed a bit at himself, and Geralt made that tiny almost-laughing noise again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped as they reached Geralt’s classroom, and Geralt looked at him quietly a moment. Then with a hint of a smile and a small wave, he disappeared into his classroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier waved back. Hmm. Maybe they could be friends after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  * </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning before school, Jaskier and Triss were sitting in the staff lounge chatting over coffee. Jaskier sensed rather than saw a large presence looming over him and he looked up to see Geralt hovering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good morning, Geralt,” he said, his heart rate increasing rapidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning. I just wanted to thank you again for rescuing me last night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss’s eyebrows shot up and Geralt saw her surprised look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got stuck with a line up after conferences ended last night and Jaskier made up an excuse to get me out of there,” he explained to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “Yes, well, you know how it can be. Everyone wants to check out the gorgeous new teacher-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze, immediately and painfully aware of what he had just said. Triss’s eyes looked ready to bulge out of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, being new is tough. I remember my first year…” she jumped in mercifully, telling a story, funny now with some distance, about the time a parent had insisted she was too young to be an actual teacher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiled at the story, doing his best not to throw up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt watched Triss with a polite smile on his face, but Jaskier noticed his eyes flicked over to him more than once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ready to celebrate the completion of Parent/Teacher conferences, Jaskier rounded up some of the staff to grab a drink together at the Bruxa after work on Friday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier got a ride with Triss and Yennefer, and was pleased to see Lambert and Eskel also came with a good handful of others. No Geralt, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drinks after work turned into wings and nachos, which then turned into pool and more drinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Geralt walked in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was leaning against the bar chatting with Triss and Yennefer, enjoying his healthy buzz, when he saw Geralt come through the door, eyes scanning the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit, he came,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier waved him over when their eyes met, Geralt’s face relaxing the tiniest bit when he saw Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, and shifted over to make space for Geralt at the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Geralt,” he said, leaning in to be heard over the noise. Geralt’s smell hit him again, and he felt his stomach leap into his throat. “Great that you made it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Geralt said, looking around uncertainly. “It’s not my normal scene, but…” he shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier wondered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, let’s get you a drink,” he said, waving down the bartender. “Beer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded. “IPA,” he said to the bartender. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt an impulse in his gut, and he went with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’ll take four Blow Jobs, please,” he added, ignoring the bartender’s slight eye roll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man definitely squirted a little bit of extra whipped cream on top of each shot, though. Jaskier tipped him generously, waving off Geralt’s attempt to pay, and pushed a shot over to Geralt, Triss, and Yenn.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked at him with a raised eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not drinking that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” Jaskier threw his arms wide. “What better time to celebrate being young and alive! We’re free of the tyranny of Stregobor and unrealistic parental expectations! Don’t you want a Blow Job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something simmered in Geralt’s eyes as he regarded Jaskier calmly. His jaw set. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his hands behind his back, bent over and put his mouth around the shot glass. Jaskier meant to steal a glimpse at Geralt’s ass, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Geralt’s mouth clamped over the shot glass. Geralt stood up with the glass firmly between his lips, met Jaskier’s eyes again, and threw his head back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt his cheeks flush and he looked at that long neck and the movement of Geralt’s throat as he swallowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt took the shot glass out of his mouth and thunked it back on the bar with a little more force than strictly necessary. He held Jaskier’s eyes again, wiping off a smear of whipped cream off his upper lip with a finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love Blow Jobs, actually.” He licked the whipped cream off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt his interest twitch against his jeans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck. What just happened.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He became aware of Triss and Yenn cackling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and do your shots,” he mumbled at them, dizzy with lust and confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did his shot, but without the easy grace of Geralt. Some of the liqueur dribbled down his chin and he wiped it off with an embarrassed chuckle. He saw Geralt eyeing his upper lip, and he reached up to find it covered in whipped cream. He did his best to swipe it off, but Geralt was still looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” he stepped right up to Jaskier and tentatively reached out a hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stilled, tilting his chin towards Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt touched his lip and brushed the whipped cream away. “Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s heart was hammering in his ears. He glanced at Triss, who was looking at him knowingly while whispering something in Yenn’s ear. Yenn smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s typical indigence failed to materialize, as the interest that had twitched in his jeans earlier was expanding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More shots?” Triss grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next Jaskier ordered Slippery Nipples, because fuck it, and felt his fingers brush Geralt’s when he passed the shot glass to him. He felt warm and fuzzy all over, and the shot tasted so very good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel and Lambert strolled up the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert’s buying the next round!” Eskel announced gleefully, clapping him on the shoulder. “We beat Redania by seventeen points and his team only won by five.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert grouched. “A win’s a win, Eskel. And my girls have more heart.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel laughed, sliding his arm around Lambert’s shoulder. “Who wants some tequila?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss whooped. Jaskier found himself leaning into Geralt without really meaning to and thought that some tequila was a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>excellent </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier woke up, head pounding, stomach roiling, and mouth bone dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to sit up. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuuuuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving up on that idea, he rolled over to get a glimpse of his alarm clock. 10:36 a.m.. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked in confusion. Next to his clock was a tall glass of water and two Advil. He had no memory of having the mental acuity to leave them there, but he gratefully downed the pills and all of the water, then he closed his eyes and tried to remember how he got home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. The last thing he remembered was the tequila shots with Lambert and Eskel and Triss and Geralt-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, gods. Geralt. Fuck. How badly had he embarrassed himself last night?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gingerly sat up again, and noticed he was still wearing his shirt from last night, but just his boxers. His jeans were on the floor next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding out of bed, he tossed his smelly shirt in the hamper. He relieved himself, brushed the funk out of his mouth, then pulled on some sweatpants and shuffled down the hallway, the thought of coffee consuming him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze when he got to this living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was asleep on his couch, covered in one of Jaskier’s throw blankets. Shirtless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the f-” he muttered, realizing at the same time that he was also, in fact, shirtless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stirred, and sat up carefully, squinting at Jaskier with one eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attention then turned to the coffee table, where another glass of water and two Advil were waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier waited for Geralt to swallow those down, foggy mind attempting to step it up several notches to figure out what Geralt was doing on his couch. Shirtless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… you’re here,” was all that came out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Geralt sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier did his best not to stare at the revealed chest hair and six-pack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were… not in great shape last night. I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A warmth flickered in Jaskier’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see…. How did we get home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You climbed in a cab and insisted you would be fine, but…” Geralt shrugged, “it just didn’t feel right letting you go alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re still here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t in great shape, either, and you… well, crashing on your couch seemed like the easiest option. So.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded, mind whirling with a thousand competing thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. That’s really… sweet, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded awkwardly and reached for his t-shirt on the floor. As he pulled it on, Jaskier noticed that his jeans were also on the floor. Which meant that under the blanket was just….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked at him, waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right! I’ll just go make some coffee, shall I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier turned and made a beeline for his kitchen, cursing inwardly for being a drunken moron. He could only hope he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself. Although it had to be a good sign that Geralt hadn’t bolted yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Geralt pull his jeans on. Coffee brewing, he turned to ask if he wanted some, and he saw Geralt typing on his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just called a cab, so I’ll be out of your hair…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I could have driven you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt folded the blanket and placed it carefully on the back of the couch. He gave Jaskier a tight smile. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee first?” Jaskier asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cab should be here soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Okay, well, thank you again. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was gone. So much for not bolting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier rested his head on the counter, groaning softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, the first few fortifying sips of coffee working their magic, he went in search of his phone. After a bit of mild swearing he found it on the floor in the back pocket of his jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had fourteen texts from Triss, starting from at some point last night. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I knew it!!! Lambert and Eskel are fully making out in the corner!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s kinda hot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lol</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where r you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jask</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JASK</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do i have to come find you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Uhhhhhhhhh JUST SAW YOU GET IN A CAB WITH GERALT</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>AKXFDJSKAHFKLDHAZSJAGQKJDHFJKS</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Ten exploding head emojis]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CALL ME IN THE MORNING BABE</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Morning are you alive</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JASKIER!!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, but as her phone rang, the dread started to build.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, helloooooo,” she drawled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop, it’s not like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really not! I don’t remember a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you don’t remember a thing, how do you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I woke up in my bed, he was on the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was he wearing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TRISS…. Just his boxers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made a strangled noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t see his underwear, though! It was under the blanket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause while they both thought about Geralt in his underwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Triss asked hesitantly. “So… how much do you remember about last night? At the bar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier grimaced. “Nothing past the tequila shots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence on the other end was ominous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit. What did I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… you were a little bit… all over Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT????” Jaskier flopped onto the bed and sprawled out in abject misery. “Noooooo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I mean, for what it’s worth, he seemed to be enjoying it? He was pretty drunk, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier covered his eyes with his other hand, head starting to pound again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so embarrassed. Fuck. What did I do exactly? No, don’t tell me. Okay, tell me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, you kept putting your arm around him, and at one point, I think you... “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he moaned. “Just say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were… rubbing his pecs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wanted to cry. While at the same time was a tiny bit disappointed that he had no memory of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he bolted upright, headache be damned, as a thought occurred to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the love of all the gods, please tell me I did not take my pants off in front of Geralt last night.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. acceso</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i><b>acceso</b><br/>/ac·cé·so/<br/>Adverb (Music): Ignited, on fire</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Monday morning Jaskier went straight to his classroom and stayed there for lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the day Triss appeared in the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heeey buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t help but notice you didn’t leave your classroom all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier dragged his hands through his hair. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just that I can never see him again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he doesn’t think badly of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Triss, he was out of there about fifteen seconds after he woke up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he was embarrassed, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would he be embarrassed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Jask. Maybe you should just talk to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While this was perhaps the reasonable and mature thing to do, Jaskier much preferred to not. Ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was true to his word and spent most of the rest of the week hiding in his classroom. When he could no longer avoid the photocopier, he used his spare period when Geralt would be teaching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was impossible to hide forever, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roughly halfway through each semester, Jaskier’s ensembles performed for the rest of the school. He liked them to perform as often as possible, and a mostly disinterested crowd lacking the most basic musical knowledge seemed like a pretty good place to start. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the first time he had ever had students performing a piece he had written, however, and he was unusually nervous as his Senior orchestra assembled in front of him, the rest of Kaedwen Academy looking on from the bleachers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his baton, and felt the familiar tingle when 27 students raised their instruments in unison and paused, eyes on him, ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they began. Jaskier’s arms cut gracefully through the air, creating a rhythm where there had been nothing. His hands fluttered and strained, clenched and soothed. He leaned forward to pull them along, then lifted them up in a soaring crescendo. Then, a softening, cradling the final tender line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier drew out the last note, then paused a moment, his hands still up. He dropped them as he let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at his students and they smiled back, then he turned to acknowledge the… extremely half-hearted scattered applause the student body was offering. He glanced at his colleagues who were, for the most part, applauding much more enthusiastically. Stregobor looked thoroughly unimpressed, but nothing new there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Jaskier saw Geralt, who was applauding loudly, his expression thoughtful. Their eyes locked, and Geralt’s lips turned up in a soft smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiled back for a brief moment, then gave a small bow to the crowd, and held his arm up in acknowledgement of his talented young musicians. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  * </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning there was a message waiting in the office for Jaskier that Stregobor wanted to see him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier cursed internally and steeled himself for whatever bullshit was coming his way. He rapped on the door frame and ducked into the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Mr. Pankratz. Please, have a seat.” Stregobor leaned back in his seat and gave a wide gesture at the chairs in front of his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier sat and looked at him evenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your performance yesterday was quite well done, except, of course-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here we fucking go,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier thought, keeping his face impassive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-I do wonder about the students performing your original works. Our job is, after all, to educate these young minds, and should they not be studying the works of the masters? Your composition was… adequate, but it’s no Mozart now, is it?” he chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt the indignation kindle in his gut and his fists clenched. A thousand words gathered on his tongue, and he opened his mouth to deliver a few choice ones when there was a sharp knock at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Principal Stregobor. I’m sorry to interrupt…” Geralt slipped into the office. “Good morning, Mr. Pankratz. How fortunate you’re here, as this concerns you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stared dumbly at Geralt, his mouth still open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Rivia. Good morning-” Stregobor started, clearly surprised to have someone barging in mid-dressing down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was speaking to Calanthe Riannon last night, you know, from the Board?” Geralt plowed ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stregobor looked startled. “You… know Calanthe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we go way back. Anyway, I was telling her about Mr. Pankratz’s performance yesterday, and she was so impressed with him composing his own works for the students to perform. ‘Something all schools might strive for’, she said. She feels that Kaedwen Academy is most fortunate to have such a talented and innovative music head.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was silent for a moment. Geralt kept his gaze on Stregobor, face smooth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt giddy laughter bubbling up inside him. He clamped his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stregobor opened and closed his mouth a few times and then he cleared his throat. “Yes, certainly. I was just about to say to Mr. Pankratz that I admired his innovation and was looking forward to more original pieces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gave a strangled cough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stregobor looked at him sharply. “That will be all, Mr. Pankratz. Mr. Rivia.” He dismissed them both with a stiff nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two men left the office and made their way down the hall and around the corner where they stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier could no longer hold it in and he laughed, throwing his head back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was… the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shrugged. “I saw you go in there and I had a feeling….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that true? Do you actually know Calanthe Riannon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that was all true. I grew up here and I have known her since I was young. She is quite a fan of classical music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s laughter softened. “Honestly, thank you. I mean…” he paused, at a rare loss for words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away down the hall. “It was nothing. It was just what she said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, still… Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded and turned to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched him walk away, thinking about what Geralt had just done for him, a new teacher barging into Stregobor's office like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Geralt glanced back at him. He gave Jaskier a small smile when their eyes met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier thought about that smile the rest of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  * </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a tradition every spring that Jaskier took his seniors to see the Kaedwen Philharmonic. Aside from actually performing with his students, it was the highlight of Jaskier’s year. He loved seeing his students all dressed up and watching the magic of the music weave its spell around them. For many of them it would be the first and perhaps only time they had the opportunity to see musicians of this caliber perform live. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss and Yenn usually came as chaperones, but this year Triss had a family obligation, and Yenn sure as hell wasn’t coming without her. It wasn’t until the secretary emailed him the final ticket confirmation that morning that he saw his other chaperones were Tissaia, Regis… and Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hmm. Geralt hadn’t struck him as a fan of the symphony, but an extra chaperone or two was always welcome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got to the opera house early with his assorted lists and confirmations, and waited at the appointed meeting place by the fountain across the plaza. Tissaia and Regis arrived shortly after. Tissaia had brought a clipboard, of course, so Jaskier put her in charge of checking the students off as they arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That freed him up a little to let his gaze wander. His heart leapt into his mouth when he saw Geralt walking towards them across the plaza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was wearing a dark blue suit, with a crisp white shirt, blue tie, and brown shoes. Jaskier watched him adjust a cuff and lost the ability to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s eyes met his as he approached. Geralt smiled shyly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look… nice,” Jaskier managed when Geralt reached him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. So do you,” Geralt replied quietly, taking in Jaskier’s black suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was suddenly aware of the crowd of excited teenagers swirling around him and he flipped into teacher mode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, then! Let’s line up, please!” he called, and he, Geralt, and Regis began herding the students into some semblance of a line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but as they found their seats, Tissaia and Regis were on one side of their section, and Geralt was sitting right next to him on the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until everyone was present and accounted for and quietly settled that he allowed himself to flip out of teacher mode. He let the sounds of the orchestra tuning send quivers of anticipation down his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they forget to close the curtain?” Geralt leaned over to whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiled. “No, there’s no curtain for orchestras. Have you been to the philharmonic before?” He was unable to take his eyes off the stage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” was all he replied, and Jaskier could feel Geralt still looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And are you familiar with tonight’s program?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said again, a hint of a smile creeping into his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier chuckled. “Well then, you’re in for a treat. We’ll hear Anatoly Liadov’s ‘Legend of the Kikimora’ to start us off, which is rather dark and moody. Then Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major, featuring the inimitable and unparalleled violin soloist Victoria Capodilista. I mean, having the opportunity to see her perform in Kaedwen is just…” He shook his head in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And finally, oh, Geralt.” Jaskier realized he was squeezing Geralt’s forearm where it sat on the armrest between them and he quickly withdrew his hand. “Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shivered. “I don’t want to oversell it, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the conductor took the stage and his words floated away as a hush fell over the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier pushed through the doors into the night air. He took a deep breath, and the joy he felt inside crackled and sparked as the oxygen flooded his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart was warm and a feeling of perfect contentment enveloped him as he listened to his students chatter excitedly, their voices high and clear in the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia and her clipboard double-checked which students had permission to make their own way home and which were getting picked up, and the crowd rapidly dwindled. The students thanked Jaskier before they left, eyes bright with possibility, and more than a handful slipped in for a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hugged each one back and held each thank you carefully in his heart for a moment, feeling again the awesome weight and responsibility he had with each soul in his care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the students were gone, he thanked Tissaia and Regis as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regis smiled at him and recited, “‘How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music creep in our ears. Soft stillness and the night become the touches of sweet harmony.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wink, he offered Tissaia his arm, and off they went. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just the two of them left, Jaskier turned to face Geralt. He felt the grin on his face stretching impossibly wide. He didn’t want this night to end. The fountain next to them was lit up, and the water splashed and rippled gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled back at him. “You look happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier sank down onto the edge of the fountain and leaned his head back with another deep breath. The stars were impossibly bright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sat next to him, shoulders almost touching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it,” he said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier looked at him, and his eyes were intense and sincere. So he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shostakovich was... a risk-taker. He said once that the beaten path was </span>
  <em>
    <span>futile,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he delighted in the unexpected, even bizarre. But the Soviets deemed his work dangerous and unpatriotic. He wrote part of No. 4 while he was being politically smeared, and, I mean, can’t you feel that? The heightened emotion in his movements?  And yet, through it all, through the confusion and hurt, he provides his own path for us to embrace this confusion, the unknown…” Jaskier’s hands flitted through the air as he spoke, and Geralt’s gaze never left him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realized he had been going a while when he was suddenly aware that Geralt’s shoulder was now touching his. It was enough to jolt him out of his reverie. He stopped with an embarrassed chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’ll stop. You don’t want to listen to me go on all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt leaned in and Jaskier turned to look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Geralt kissed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gasped softly in surprise and he felt Geralt’s lips hesitate a moment, but then Jaskier kissed him back with a fervour that surprised even him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They broke off, their breath coming quickly, and Geralt reached up tentatively to smooth Jaskier’s hair back off his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” he asked, with a little uncertainty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Jaskier could do was nod, reaching in turn to tuck a loose strand of Geralt’s hair behind his ear. It glowed an ephemeral silver in the fountain lights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lips met again, soft and sweet as the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They parted with a shy “See you tomorrow”, and Jaskier floated through the rest of the night, barely remembering the drive home. He brushed his teeth in a daze, dropped his suit onto the floor, and snuggled deep into his covers with a euphoric sigh. He didn’t text Triss, wanting to hold the moment close for a little while longer. He fell asleep with the thought of strong hands on his back and warm lips pressed against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jaskier’s alarm went the next morning, his eyes flew open at the memory. Last night’s warm and fuzzy joy had turned into a bright and fizzy glee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whistled as he got ready, put on his brightest yellow dress shirt, and drove to work singing loudly to his “Let’s Do This” playlist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The usual morning chit chatters were in the staff room, and Jaskier’s heart leapt when he saw Geralt. He was sitting with Triss and Yennefer, and Jaskier did his best to greet them politely before sliding into the seat next to Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he said with a secretive smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Geralt smiled back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss and Yenn exchanged a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you today, Geralt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well, thank you. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m great. Wonderful. Perfect, really. Thank you for coming to the concert last night. Your help was much appreciated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded. “I need to get to class to set up for a lab but… I’ll see you at lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely.” Jaskier winked at him, and Geralt’s fingers lightly brushed Jaskier’s shoulder as he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss and Yenn stared at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shell cracked and he buried his face in his hands with a small squeal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier! Tell me now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, glancing at Yenn. She likely did not want to hear this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood up. “Triss can give me the highlights later,” she rolled her eyes. “I have to get to class, too.” She squeezed Triss’s hand and Jaskier watched her go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember how I thought that Geralt and Yenn were dating?” he asked Triss with a chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no, you’re definitely an idiot,” she agreed helpfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch! I’m not sure that was entirely warranted.” Jaskier pressed a hand to his chest, gravely wounded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jask.” She learned forward and looked at him hard. “For gods’ sake. Yenn and I are dating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thousand thoughts crowded his mind, but the first to come out was, “And you didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss sighed. “Well, you guys don’t get along and she’s my department head and we thought it was better if we just waited a while to see if it was serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And is it? Serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, a blush creeping across her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s great, Triss.” He sat back, allowing his mind to realign with this new reality. There must be more to like about Yennefer if Triss was in a serious relationship with her. He pondered the notion of actually being </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Yenn, and was so distracted he momentarily forgot about-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now tell me,” Triss demanded, scooting her chair closer and propping up her chin with one hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*  *  *  * </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day flew by for Jaskier, and he spent the entire senior orchestra period with his students deconstructing and discussing last night’s concert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stregobor called an impromptu staff meeting at lunch, and while Jaskier and Geralt sat next to each other, every atom in his body intensely aware of Geralt’s proximity, they had no opportunity to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the bell rang to end the day, he couldn’t wait a moment longer, and slipped out of his classroom right behind his last student, heading straight towards Geralt’s room in the science wing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he rounded the last corner, there was Geralt coming towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped facing each other, only a foot apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled. “Would you like to go get a drink?” he asked immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jaskier smiled back. He turned so they could walk out together, his fingertips brushing Geralt’s. “Maybe no shots this time, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt laughed, a full sound ringing with happiness, sweeter than any music. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went back to the Bruxa and sat together at a high table in the corner, knees bumping together as they settled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They chatted about the day until the server placed their drinks on the table - just beer this time - and vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence fell and Jaskier looked at Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, those eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he started, clearing his throat. He wasn’t sure where to begin, so he went with the obvious. “You kissed me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled and rumbled a gentle laugh. “I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aaaaand,” Jaskier continued. “You’d… like to do it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt like he’d burn alive from the heat in Geralt’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt Geralt’s leg press against his under the table. A fizzy feeling crept up his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s excellent. After I started drunkenly pawing at you I thought I might have scared you off for good.” He looked at his hands where they wrapped around his beer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt reached out and gently closed his hand around Jaskier’s nervous fingers. He looked up again to see steady gold eyes on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I liked your drunken pawing.” They both laughed. “In fact, I may have drunkenly pawed back a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier blushed. “Well, if you did, I don’t remember. What I do remember is waking up to find you shirtless on my couch before you practically sprinted out the door.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt cringed. “I’m sorry, I… didn’t handle that well. I was so embarrassed-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were embarrassed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked at him incredulously. “Yes, I just couldn’t believe that I was drunk enough to pass out on your couch and apparently just took all my clothes off in your living room…” He paused, a slight flush on both their cheeks now at the memory. “You had begged me to stay though, and I couldn't leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>begged… </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?” Jaskier resisted the urge to hide behind his hands, mostly because Geralt still had a firm grip on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded, a shy smile spreading across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I…” Jaskier paused, compelled to ask despite the voice in his head saying not to, “take my pants off in front of you that night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded again, doing a rather poor job at stifling a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Jaskier blustered. “You clearly have nothing to be embarrassed about, since I was the one doing the begging and the removing of clothing... in front of you. And finding you shirtless in my living room was the only good part of an otherwise </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly </span>
  </em>
  <span>vicious hangover.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier could barely handle the way Geralt was looking at him, but Geralt’s thumb stroking his wrist grounded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you again now?” Geralt asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt leaned across the table and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s before he could even finish the word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and melted into it, lips slightly parted, enjoying the softness of Geralt’s lips between his. Geralt’s tongue lightly flicked out and touched Jaskier’s bottom lip. It felt like a promise, and the feeling lingered as Geralt leaned back, eyes dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every nerve ending in Jaskier’s body tingled. “Would you like to go grab some dinner?” he asked, eyes wide, a song coursing through his veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Geralt replied simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they finished and paid for their drinks, they stood there for just a moment, Geralt lacing his fingers into Jaskier’s. Together they walked out into the sunshine, two people, in unison. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayet/pseuds/Fayet">Fayet</a> was my legal consultant for Lawyer!Geralt in my last AU and it turns out they also know a lot about classical music, of course. Fayet designed the entire concert program for me and I’m just at a loss as to how to properly express my extreme gratitude. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are a treasure, Fayet. </p><p>If you would like to listen to the concert music:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0L9fYMq7Gg">Liadov’s Kikimora</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QAsZMcX5Zoc">Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzcoxMEJRmw&amp;t">Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4</a></p><p>Regis’ quote is from <i>The Merchant of Venice.</i> </p><p>If you liked this, I think you’ll enjoy my Geraskier coffee shop AU series <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24761398">Jitters</a>. </p><p>Or maybe you’re looking for some canon, with a healthy dose of hurts-so-good? I have to recommend Blaire’s work <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355795">The Spring of Burning Forests</a>. Her Geraskier is delicious, all unspoken-but-still-kind-of-spoken feelings and will-they-or-won’t-they torture. (Spoiler: they definitely will.) The slow burn has a massive pay off, I guarantee it. You don’t want to miss this! </p><p>And perhaps <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967">subscribe to me</a> to make sure you don’t miss any future Geraskier fics!</p><p>Come say hi on <a>Twitter</a> and <a>Tumblr</a>. I follow back! </p><p>Kudos are so appreciated, and each and every comment <b>means the world to me</b> and really inspires me to keep writing.  I’m not above begging for them. Please, please leave one! xox</p></blockquote></div></div>
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